


Emancipation

by nomical



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Historical, Eloping, F/F, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomical/pseuds/nomical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any other night he would be at Arthur’s side, sharing in the joke, maybe sending one back Morgana’s way. Not tonight though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emancipation

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Summer Pornathon's Week 4 Bonus Challenge "Playing Games". The thread is closed to comments now but you can find the rest of the fabulous entries [here](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/113266.html). This hasn't been beta read so please excuse the anachronisms and blame the Downton Abbey soundtrack for making me feel all the feels.

Hoping to avoid the majority of awkward chit chat, Merlin arrives at the ball a good two hours after the time on his invitation. Around him, the party is in full swing. The beads on the girls’ dresses clatter together with each swish of their hips, men sneaking hungry glances when they think no one is looking. He much prefers the balls of days gone by; when women wore fuller skirts that rustled like they had secrets to tell. Granted, he never attended any balls of the sort until recent years, but these modern dresses are far too noisy for his liking. The men’s styling has at least stayed in the realm of familiarity. Men parade around in white shirts and ties, each one trying to look crisper than the next.

He pulls at his own shirt awkwardly. It was his uncle’s and it spent several decades in a wooden trunk before it was rediscovered and altered to fit him. He knows he’s being paranoid, but part of him still thinks that people can smell the tang of mothballs and cedar on him, reminding him that he’s not made of old money and still so very new to this strange world of wealth and foppery.

It’s an odd time to enter such a life, when the old ways clearly have one foot in the grave. The world is getting smaller and the circles are closing in on themselves. Ships are crossing the Atlantic with increasing frequency, and even his mother has a telephone now. A large number of servants still make the rounds, carrying all manner of food and drink, but he wouldn’t be surprised to see the entire profession of serving done away with very soon. But such thoughts make him an oddity at Uther Pendragon’s parties – the majority of his guests still drowning in opulence – so he keeps his mouth shut and lets his eyes wander.

Where they wander to is the one thing they should stay far away from. Devastatingly handsome in his suit, Arthur has positioned himself in one of the drawing rooms, tonight serving as a space for card games. Always the gentleman, he maintains a careful distance from Guinevere as he leans over her chair, back straight with perfect posture. He gestures to one of the cards in her hand and she slaps it firmly down on the table. Across from them, Morgana scowls first at the card, then at her brother. Too far away to hear, he imagines Morgana saying something both witty and cutting in the way only she can. He’s not disappointed. Gwen’s nose wrinkles in polite amusement and Arthur throws back his head and laughs, a tableau of pure mirth. Standing near the doorway, Uther turns his head at the sound, disapproval written clear across his face.

Merlin wishes dearly he could join them. Any other night he would be at Arthur’s side, sharing in the joke, maybe sending one back Morgana’s way. Not tonight though. Tonight is to be a momentous occasion for the Pendragon and Thompson families as two of their children take the first step towards marriage. It’s the reason for Uther’s hovering and indeed the entire reason for the ball. Once Arthur has formally proposed, Uther will take center stage and announce the happy couple’s engagement to the room at large. The guests will cheer and raise their glasses in a toast. It will be the talk of the town for months. Merlin feels ill just thinking about it.

He grabs a flute of champagne from a passing server and nearly says thank you before he remembers he’s to pretend like they don’t exist. Like he wasn’t their peer just a few short years ago before his uncle passed and he inherited a small fortune along with his title. He tips the glass back and takes a liberal mouthful, hoping the alcohol with wash some of the melancholy out of his system. It’s far too much to swallow with dignity and he’s forced to do a funny little turn to face the wall. At least there he can swirl the foul concoction around in his cheeks without making a total arse of himself.

Perhaps it’s his sudden movement, or perhaps she knew he was there all along – he can never tell with Morgana – but when he turns back to the game room he locks eyes with Morgana and watches as a funny little smile takes hold of her mouth. Whatever she says next makes Arthur practically jump out of his skin as he too looks up and catches sight of Merlin. In all their years together, he’s never seen Arthur look so rattled before. He desperately wants to go to him and discover the source of his consternation, but his resolve holds and he stays planted.

Given that the entire evening was orchestrated to give Arthur an excuse to stay by Gwen’s side, it’s therefore a surprise when she and Morgana stand up and link arms. Morgana gives her brother a brief pat on the cheek before turning and steering them out in the direction of living quarters. Keeping his eyes fixed on Merlin, Arthur gives his shirt a brief tug before crossing the room towards him. Glued to the spot by the intensity of Arthur’s stare, Merlin can do nothing more than raise his glass to his lips and take a hasty drink. Dutch courage and all that.

“Lord Emrys, what a pleasure to see you tonight,” says Arthur, reaching his side at last. “I was almost afraid you had decided against coming.” He laughs shakily which is so out of character for the man that Merlin is convinced something quite serious is ailing him.

“I would not have missed tonight for the world,” he responds sincerely. “Rumour has it there is to be an announcement later?” He aims for casual but misses by a mile.

Arthur’s colouring goes distinctly red and his normally bright smile falters. “An…announcement? Where pray tell did you hear that?”

“Oh, you know how the servants love to gossip. I believe the word made its way from your butler to my footman through some six or seven other parties.”

“I really must have a word with my man,” Arthur mutters. “But such matters are for later. Come, the ladies have deserted me to take a turn around the drawing room and I insist you walk with me through the gardens. The carnations are in bloom and it would be a shame to miss them. The green ones blossom so infrequently these days.”

“Surely it would be better to wait for the ladies to return,” says Merlin hastily. “I would hate for you to miss an opportunity to speak more with the Lady Guinevere.”

“Lady Guinevere and I will have plenty of chances to talk in the future, I assure you,” says Arthur firmly. “Right now, it is your company I desire. Shall we?”

He holds out an arm like he would for a lady and all thoughts of resistance leave Merlin’s mind.

“I- uh, yes.” He settles on, abandoning his half-drunk glass on the nearest table.

He doesn’t dare take Arthur’s proffered arm, but gives it a slight pat before indicating Arthur should take the lead. The look Arthur gives him in return is difficult to place, but he takes the lead nonetheless and they make a swift retreat, Uther’s eyes boring a hole in the back of Merlin’s hand-me-down jacket the whole way.

The air outside is blissfully cool compared to the stagnant heat of the ballroom and Merlin feels as though he can breathe again. Arthur wasn’t lying about the gardens being beautiful. The gardens bring about a quiet calm in Merlin that cannot be bought for all the gold in the world. Given the option, he’d trade his entire fortune if it meant he could live a more humble life as a gardener or groundskeeper. Just something that kept him in nature where he could do an honest day’s work again. But such dreams are beyond him now and he must content himself with walking through pretty things instead of building them himself.

“The carnations are at the back of the house in the hedge maze,” says Arthur, breaking his broody silence. “Father doesn’t like the look of them but I think they’re a rather lovely plant.”

“I agree. There’s something of a simple beauty to them, the way they can blend in with the rest of the shrubbery and not look out of place. But look at one up close and they’re actually quite extraordinary.”

“Yes.”

They fall into awkward silence again and Merlin hates that there’s this tension between them. They didn’t begin as friends – with Merlin rejecting the lavishness of his new lifestyle and Arthur furious that anyone should disrespect it – but words always came easily to them, be them hostile or kind. Something about their dynamic is more than off tonight and he can’t help but wonder if it has to do with the impending engagement. Uther despairs of their close friendship; indeed, part of Merlin wonders if Uther’s dislike of him stems from his nouveau riche status or the fact that his presence makes Arthur reluctant to leave his bachelor days behind him. Perhaps Uther has instructed Arthur that as Guinevere takes on a new role in his life, he is to leave certain other acquaintances behind? The thought that Arthur could be so eager to talk to him only to give him a message of farewell breaks his heart and he’s glad for the partial cover of darkness as he can blame his glossy eyes on the low light. They stop in front of the flower in question and Merlin waits for the hammer to fall.

“Merlin,” Arthur begins solemnly, “before I say anything else, I want to thank you for these past years together. You’ve been a truer friend than I deserve and I would not be the man I am today without your influence. Though your brand of medicine is, shall we say peculiar, you’ve taught me some much needed wisdom. You are a man ahead of your time and I am honoured to call you my friend.”

A true smile schools his features into an expression so soft that Merlin wishes he had a camera so as to capture it forever.

“One of the many subjects you’ve tutored me in is that of progress,” he continues. “Society is changing rapidly around us. I worry what will become of those like my father who stand headstrong and unmoving against the currents of change. Will he be swept away and have his back broken as others force him to adapt to the inevitable? Or will he simply remain immobile and erode until he is irrelevant?” He clasps his hands together behind his back and gazes pensively at the garden, apparently waiting for Merlin to voice his opinion.

“I think only time with tell in his case.” Merlin shrugs. “I have never met anyone as truly domineering as your father. But perhaps he will surprise us all and bend to change gracefully. Even the tallest trees sway in the wind.”

Arthur laughs, a repeat of his performance in the game room, but this time Merlin can hear it. The hearty guffaws go straight to his chest and make his heart swell, knowing that he was the one to draw such a sweet sound into the world.

“This is why I admire you Merlin. You go to such lengths to keep the peace that you’re even willing to spare a few kind words for my father when he stands for everything you abhor.” His smile dims slightly and he looks away again. “But I doubt I will be around to see how my father fares with the coming decades.”

Merlin’s heart skips a beat as tries to process the announcement.

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I mean that some change comes faster than others while some things never change at all. The change my father longs to see – the one the servants gossiped about – will not happen tonight. In fact, I can’t see it ever happening.”

“Arthur,” Merlin starts.

“There will be, _can be_ no engagement Merlin, for it would be dishonest to myself and to the Lady Guinevere. My heart has been engaged to someone else for quite some time now. Someone who is loyal to a fault and generous beyond belief. Someone whose sharp tongue has kept me on my toes and someone whose mind intrigues me more and more with each passing day. Someone I feel closer to than anyone else in the world yet is the one person I’m forbidden to touch.” He raises his shaking hand to cup Merlin’s face and Merlin goes stock-still under his touch.

“Arthur.” He repeats the name like a prayer, hardly daring to believe.

“I am tired of playing the game Merlin. You are the only one there will ever be for me. Please…please tell me you feel the same way.” His voice breaks on the last word and Merlin can’t help but laugh.

“Feel the same way? Arthur you foolish man, I’ve been half in love with you from our first week of being acquainted, and the rest of me followed soon after!”

“I adore you,” is the last thing Arthur says before bringing their lips together in a kiss.

They take their time exploring the way their mouths fit together, protected on all sides by the tall hedges of the maze garden. When they finally break apart Merlin has tears in his eyes and is gratified to see matching ones glistening in Arthur’s.

“I can’t believe I thought you were bringing me out here to tell me to run me off!” He laughs, relishing in how light his chest feels.

“Why on earth would I try to run you off?” Arthur cries, hauling him in by the front of his suit. “We’re tethered, you and I; where you go, I go.” He places a brief kiss on his lips and Merlin knows he’ll never grow tired of this. “Which brings us to our next point of business.”

“Business?”

“Yes, well.” Arthur rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “You picked up on Guinevere and Morgana making their exit? They should be getting George to load the last carriage as we speak. We’ve come up with a plan.”

“All of you. You mean the ladies know of your affections?” asks Merlin, flabbergasted.

“Yes, but don’t worry!” He holds up his hands in placation. “It turns out they’ve been in a similar, ah, situation for ages. They just had the good sense to talk their feelings out years ago.”

“Guinevere and…Morgana?” Merlin says slowly. He’s completely wrong-footed by the sudden announcement but it would explain much of their past interactions.

“I know,” Arthur sighs. “But quite honestly, we owe them a debt of gratitude. Without their bravery I doubt I would have worked up the nerve for my own confession. Just don’t tell that to Morgana. She’d never let me live it down.”

“Rightfully so.” Merlin grins.

“But back to the matter at hand! I got a fair bit of flak from them for not bringing you in on it earlier, but I knew I’d never be able to ask you until the last second.”

“Ask me what?”

“Will you run away with me?” he asks bluntly, blue eyes dancing in the moonlight.

“I- what?” asks Merlin, confounded for what feels like the tenth time that evening.

“We’ve got it all worked out. If we stay here my father will undoubtedly find some way to force an engagement; if not with Guinevere then with some other lady of proper breeding for me and a man of similar standing for Morgana. This obviously runs counter to what the four of us want. We debated the merits of staying here and trying to arrange for you and Morgana to be married but in the end we decided my father would never go for it. That, and the servants would never give us a moment’s peace. So our other option is to run for it. Somewhere faraway where no one has ever heard of the name Pendragon or Thompson or Emrys.”

There’s a wild kind of hope Merlin has never seen on his face, and it feels a privilege to witness such a sight.

“And what, just give up your fortune? Leave our houses with no heirs and never look back? Make for the Highlands and live as farmers for the rest of our days?”

“Essentially.” Arthur nods. “You said it yourself Merlin, the old ways are dying. You’ve been a catalyst for change in so many ways already, why not take it one step further?”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day when Arthur Pendragon left his house of luxury to become a farmer!” Merlin jibes, but there’s no malicious in it. “I’d give all the gold in the world to see you herding sheep.”

“I didn’t think you’d be a hard sell.” Arthur throws an arm around his shoulder and draws him in tight to his side. “Though we were thinking more the south of Wales. It’s milder than the Highlands and has good connections to Belfast should we need to escape to America. We can write to your mother once we’re established. Something tells me she may be slightly more accepting of our situation than others. She might even fancy joining us for Christmas one year!”

Merlin stops suddenly, the reality of the situation bringing him back to earth. “Are you really sure about this Arthur? You know I hold no love for this life but this is all you’ve ever known. Are you really willing to give up society and your _father_ , all for me?”

“If I ever hear you speak so disparagingly of yourself again I shall be very cross. You,” he swings them round until they stand together like lovers before an altar, hands clasped between them, “are worth being shunned from every corner of respectable society and I accept their banishment with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. As much as it grieves me to part ways with my father, the life he would have me lead is one that would make everyone involved desperately unhappy and I could never forgive myself for putting you through that.”

He raises their hands to his lips and presses delicate kisses one-by-one to each of Merlin’s knuckles.

“Therefore, My Lord, would you do me the honour of letting me escort you to the drive shed?”

It’s a silly way to end such a charged scene, but Merlin can’t think of anything more perfect.

“Indeed – our carriage awaits!”


End file.
